


And Then There Were Three

by teddysheeranfics



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician)
Genre: Baby, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Funny, New Baby, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddysheeranfics/pseuds/teddysheeranfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*First-person in the OFC point-of-view* </p><p>Soon-to-be parents from the first contraction to the first night home with their brand new baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kick

It felt like kernels popping from the inside. My hands flew to the front of my belly, pressing and poking the skin until a little hiccup of a twitch knocked against my right palm.

“Ed!” I smiled, shouting and trying my hardest to hurry toward the living room where I knew he was sitting.

“What is it?” he called back, but when he heard me shuffling a little faster than I normally would, I saw a blur of orange hair as he spun where he sat on the sofa.

Another flutter came, harder, and I waved Ed over with my hand, struggling to make it toward him fast enough. He shot up off the couch, his black rimmed glasses nearly falling off his face as he stood, skipping a beat over to me, his hands outstretched.

I grabbed his wrist, clutching at the band of his watch, pulling and pressing both of his palms to my belly.

“Did you feel it?”

Ed narrowed his eyes as I asked him the question, brows pushed together in concentration and fingers splayed in hopes to feel our unborn baby kick.

He shook his head, keeping his right hand where I’d placed it, right above my navel, sliding his left palm up a bit.

“Seven months pregnant and I still haven’t felt it,” he was focusing harder, practically begging with his fingers for the baby to move, “I swear I’m gonna feel it before this baby comes out.”

I wasn’t sure if Ed just didn’t have the right timing, or if our baby was just going to be born rebellious, but each time he tried to feel the baby kick, it didn’t happen, no matter how often I felt it myself seconds before.

Ed sighed and dropped his hands, leaving two cool hand prints against my stomach when they fell at his side. It was clear that he was upset. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth and I snatched both his hands, pulling him closer until my belly poked his.

“Want me to do some jumping jacks?” I asked him with a smile, leaning closer, “Run in place? Or I could do some squats? That’ll wake the little one up.”

A puff of warm air left his nose as he laughed lightly, pulling his right hand away to brush the hair from my face.

“Love, if you do any of that right now, something tells me this baby will be here much sooner than we think.”

We chose not to know the baby’s gender until he or she was born. We liked the idea of not knowing, even though as the months progressed it grew harder, and each time I went for a sonogram, it was incredibly tempting to just ask. Either way, we knew we would be ecstatic no matter the gender.

Seven months quickly turned into eight. Ed had been away for most of it, and though it was extremely hard not having him there, I knew that if he worked throughout most of the pregnancy, that meant he would have more time at home once the baby arrived. We discussed it the moment we found out we were expecting. I made Ed promise that once the baby came he would be there to help and support me. He reassured me that he would while he cupped my cheek and kissed my nose.

He made sure to keep his schedule clear from two weeks before the due date and until the baby was at least three months old. I knew he would stay home longer, but I also knew that things can change, so I made sure he agreed to a minimum of three months.

On his first day home, two weeks before the due date, we were huddled close together on the sofa watching movies until I fell asleep against his shoulder. I nodded off to the feel of his arm wrapped around me and his thumb massaging circles into my skin.

“Babe,” he whispered against my hair, gently shaking me awake, “let’s go to bed.”

I groaned against the nape of his neck, curling up closer to him, not wanting to move. A smile crept over my mouth when his hand trailed down my arm and against my belly.

“Come on little one,” he sighed, keeping his voice low, “give daddy a good kick,”

His palm moved in firm circles and I exhaled against his skin, planting a soft kiss under his jaw. I brought my right hand up and scratched lightly at the rough auburn hair sprouting from his cheek.

“Nice try daddy,” I told him, my voice heavy with sleep.

“How have I never felt it, though?”

I glanced up at him, a yawn escaping my mouth as I dragged my nails lightly down his chest, “maybe you should try talking or singing again.”

Throughout the pregnancy Ed made sure to communicate with the baby since we’d read that by the time he or she was born, they would recognize his voice. It was cute to watch and listen to him lean his face close to my belly while I laid on my back, propped up on my elbows, him kneeling between my legs while he sang or talked to the baby.

He unraveled his arm from around me, wanting so badly to feel the baby kick that he was willing to try anything. I wiped my eyes as he pushed off the couch, kneeling down between my legs as he pushed my shirt over my belly.

“Alright, listen up,” he said, his tone firm as if he were reprimanding the baby, “daddy’s getting awfully jealous that you’re giving all your attention to mommy,”

I sat with both hands folded against the top of my belly, staring down at Ed and smiling wide as he coerced the baby into kicking. He moved his face inches from my belly, both hands placed on either side.

“Once upon a time,” he started and I sighed, throwing my head back against the sofa.

“Oh God,” I rolled my eyes, smiling through the frustration.

Ed loved to tell stories to the baby, but they were never exactly baby-friendly. He’d tell tales of dragons and adventures, doing anything he could to rile the baby up and get him or her to kick. Though the stories themselves were hilarious, he never let me move until he was finished, or until the baby kicked, whichever came first.

“Shush mommy,” he said, playfully swatting my chin.

I gave in, dropping my gaze back down to his orange hair, silently begging the baby to just kick for him and be done with it.

“Once upon a time,” he continued, “there was a baby. And this baby was not like any other baby. This baby had little tiny baby legs, but incredibly strong baby arms.”

I shook my head, my eyes squinting shut at his tale, trying my hardest not to laugh.

“Since he was a baby, he didn’t know how to walk properly, so he would swing from building to building, since he was raised by apes,” he trailed, looking up at me through one squinted eye, “I’ve decided that we’re having a boy. And also that he was brought up with monkeys.”

“Yeah, Ed, I caught that,” I nodded, “I’m terrified of what’s next for our monkey-human-child hybrid.”

With a shrug, he pressed his hand back against my belly, focusing on the task at hand, continuing, “just as he was swinging, he saw a dragon soaring overhead, fire spilling from its mouth.”

“Here we go with the dragons,” I whispered, letting him continue.

Unexpectedly, he gently shook my belly to demonstrate the breeze from the dragon’s wings as it flew, puckering his lips and creating a whoosh sound through his teeth. I couldn’t help but adore how into it he was, his blue eyes focused on my belly, fingers splayed.

“And then with his incredibly strong baby arms, he reached up and plucked the dragon straight from the sky-”

His voice trailed, and I lifted my head, my eyes darting down to my navel where I’d felt the tiniest flutter. Ed’s mouth fell open as he stopped, both hands flying to the spot where my skin twitched the slightest bit, both of our eyes fixed on the skin.

A chill ran through me when I felt it again, this time harder, Ed’s hands twitching under the kick. His eyes met mine then, blue and glistening, the widest smile stretching over his mouth. He’d finally felt it.

“Babe,” he said, his voice cheery and high-pitched, cracking as his eyebrows lifted, “I felt it. I felt the baby!”

I nodded, my hands reaching for the sides of his face as I sat up straighter, another kick making Ed’s fingers move visibly. I winced at the force of the tiny fists or feet, whichever it was, feeling like a flick against the inside of my stomach. He pressed a kiss to the taught skin, the light brush of his beard tickling my belly.

He helped me stand, wrapping his arms around me until I heard him sniffle against my shoulder. I remembered the first time I’d felt the baby kick, and I hadn’t realized how overjoyed I’d been, only then just understanding how overwhelming it must’ve been for Ed. I brought my hands to either side of his face, my heart splitting in two at the sight of his chin quivering, blue eyes flooded.

“I love you so much,” he said, his voice cracking.

I covered my mouth with his then, emptying every ounce of energy I had l left into the kiss, tasting the bitterness of salt when a single tear fell from his eye.

He talked about feeling the kick until he fell asleep that night, reliving the moment over and over while he was curled up behind me, his hand cradling my swollen belly. I intertwined my fingers with his, pulling his arm up to kiss the back of his hand just before his breathing steadied and he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Labor

Two days later, I went into labor. At first, it felt like a cramp in my lower belly, and it happened just as we were getting ready for bed. I remember the look on Ed’s face when the second one tore straight through my abdomen. I clutched my belly, bending forward as the pain took the air straight from my chest. Ed froze where he stood, one hand pulling back the blankets, just about to climb into bed.

“Babe?” he asked, “Are you alright?”

He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, eyes wide and the only color left in him being his orange hair and a light blush on both cheeks. I let out a long breath, nodding to reassure him.

“I think it was a contraction,” I breathed, my face screwing up, “I might be in labor.”

I’d read countless books and articles online about when to go to the hospital, and when the contractions were the real thing, and nothing can prepare you for that moment. No amount of words on a page can describe the pain of a contraction; like a menstrual cramp on steroids.

I managed to climb into bed, breathing through the pain, Ed still stood on the other side of the bed in shock, seemingly unsure of what to do.

The mattress sunk as he crawled up beside me, gently cradling my swollen belly with one hand, the other rubbing my arm.

“What can I do?”

“Pillows,” I breathed, my eyes fluttering closed as the pain slowly began to fade.

He propped me up, surrounding me with every pillow on the bed, holding my hand and pushing the hair off my forehead.

Nearly ten minutes passed and we thought it was a fluke until the twelve minute mark and a twisting, throbbing ache pulsated through my lower back. I grabbed whatever part of Ed I could, squeezing his arm through the pain, eyes slammed shut and mouth hung open.

He scrambled for his phone when I gritted my teeth and begged him to call the hospital, huffing and puffing through the pain as he spoke with a nurse, asking if we should go in.

I listened to him speak, his voice trembling as he wrapped his palm over the mouthpiece, angling the phone away from his face, “babe did your water break?”

I shook my head violently, eyes still slammed shut, pain still radiating over my lower back and abdomen.

“No,” he answered, “but she’s in a lot of pain and I don’t know what to do.”

Unfortunately for the both of us, the nurse reassured him that if my water hadn’t broken yet, we should stay at home until my contractions were under five minutes apart for at least an hour.

Once he hung up the phone, the contraction had subsided, and he immediately clutched my hand, kneeling beside me again.

“I didn’t think they would hurt this bad right off the bat,” I told him, my heart pounding from the surge of pain.

“Anything you need love, I’m here.”

It was all I needed to hear from him. I was thankful that he was stepping up and offering whatever help he could, even sitting cross-legged with my feet in his lap, massaging them to try and take my mind off the pain everywhere else.

I’d fallen asleep between sporadic contractions, since they weren’t constant just yet, waking up when a light cramp washed through my belly, feeling Ed’s hair on my arm when I came to. He’d fallen asleep against me, a hand splayed across my hip, just under my protruding belly, lying on his right side so his face was pressed against my ribs. I smiled down at him, scratching his hair with a sigh before shaking him awake.

He stirred in his sleep, groaning until I shook him again by his shoulder, his fingers curling as he stretched his arms up beside his head.

“Ed I really need to pee,” I told him, having been trapped by his legs tangled with mine and his arm wrapped around me.

He rolled onto his back, slowly blinking his eyes open as he came to, quickly springing up and wiping the sleep from his eyes. Though I didn’t need it, he helped me up off the bed, walking with me to the bathroom within our bedroom.

“What time is it?” I asked, slowly sitting down against the toilet.

Ed yawned and rubbed a hand over his face, squinting at his watch, “a little after three.”

I’d made it close to four hours, feeling completely and totally exhausted already, having just been on our way to bed for the night when I’d felt the first contraction.

Ed waited for me in the bathroom, poking and pulling at his facial hair in the mirror over the sink until I waddled over to where he was standing. He fell into place behind me, pressing his front to my back as he placed a kiss against my shoulder and slung his arms around my belly.

I felt a strange sensation between my thighs, turning the faucet off with wet hands, looking down in confusion. Ed must’ve noticed my concern, because he took a step back, eyes trailing down at the floor when I felt a gush of liquid between my legs. Panic filled my chest as my pajama bottoms soaked up the fluid, my water breaking right there between the sink and Ed.

“Holy shit,” Ed said, staring down at the forming puddle, both of us realizing that I had in fact not peed myself.

I slowly turned, palms facing outward as I kept my eyes on the small clear puddle, “I think it’s time to go to the hospital.”

Ed helped me change and walked me back to the bed while he got dressed. I knew it must’ve been hard for him, but he didn’t hesitate to clean up the mess in the bathroom.

All of it felt so surreal suddenly. Though Ed and I had talked about starting a family practically the second we said our vows, it finally hit me that it was all really happening.

Shortly after Ed cleaned up the bathroom, another contraction came, this time it was the strongest one I’d felt, cutting off my sentence and stealing the air from my throat. Tears burned my eyes as I reached for Ed’s hand, clutching to him for dear life.

After it passed, he quickly shot up, snatching the overnight bag and running to the car before coming back in a full blown sweat, helping me off the bed.

With one hand pressed against my lower spine and the other clutching Ed’s, he lead me out of the house, all while I squeezed the blood from his fingers.

By the time we reached the hospital and I was admitted, it was nearing five in the morning and I was five centimeters dilated, which was exactly halfway. I decided early on that the only person I wanted in the room with me while I delivered was Ed, but even so, I asked him to inform my parents and he did the same with his.

Although I’d read the pros and cons about not having an epidural during labor and delivery, I stood by my choice to have a completely natural birth, since it was the route my own mother chose. I felt that it would be better for myself and the baby, and I made sure Ed knew that no matter how much I cried or yelled or begged for an epidural, I didn’t get one.

Once the nurse examined me and informed us I was around five centimeters dilated, the contractions began to worsen. Ed was great for the first hour, staying by side and clutching my hand when I needed it most, reassuring me that I was strong while he kissed my forehead.

I could see it in his face that he wanted to say something just after I squeezed the feeling from his hand and cried out in pain. I swear I saw his eyes well up because of how hard I was crushing his fingers.

“Are you sure you don’t want any pain meds?”

And there he said it, eyes glossed over, blue and bright and squinted, his tone just low enough for me to make out what he’d said. I was working my way through another strong contraction when he asked the question, and I clutched his hand even harder, forcefully crushing his fingers until they were gorged with blood.

“Shut. Up.” I spat. Suddenly I didn’t care about how supportive and helpful he’d been, I was in the moment, and at that very moment, it felt as if my spine was being filleted like a fresh caught salmon.

I cursed under my breath at the incredible pain, hearing Ed do just the same when I pulled his arm closer. I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but I admitted he was being selfish when asking me if I was sure about the pain medication. We’d talked about it plenty of times, and he knew how important it was to me to have a natural birth.

The contraction soon passed, taking a deep exhale from my lungs when it did, and I slowly let go of Ed’s hand. He quickly pulled it to his chest, shaking it off and examining the crescent shaped indents along the back of it from where my nails had dug into his flesh.

“I’m sorry baby,” I cried, throwing both hands over my face. I was an emotional, sweaty, pain-stricken mess.

I felt his hands on my wrists as he gently pulled them away from my eyes, resting each of his palms on either cheek, “don’t be sorry, you’re doing great,” he said, pressing his lips against the bridge of my nose.

He wiped my tears with his thumbs, “I shouldn’t have asked you that,”

I nodded my head, still with his palms against my cheeks.

“I just can’t stand seeing you in this much pain,” he sniffled, his crystal blue eyes flooding with tears as he said it, “I wish I could trade places with you.”

His chin quivered, and my heart broke in two. Although he could be an idiot, he was my idiot, and he was insanely supportive of everything going on, even though I knew it killed him to see me in pain. I pulled his hands away from my face, grabbing his cheeks to pull him closer. I kissed his lips, smiling gently once we separated. He tried blinking away the tears, but they still fell, hitting the tips of my thumbs until I whisked them away.

I was just about to tell him how much I loved him when another contraction caught me mid-sentence, making me throw my head forward and slam my forehead straight against Ed’s, our bones meeting with a solid thud.

Ed’s first reaction was to cradle his and wince, but once he saw the state of me, he snapped out of it, rushing over and grabbing the hand I was begging him for.

I told Ed to take a break once my mother arrived, and he gladly obliged, choosing to go grab a coffee and take a breather, but mainly rest his hand. I’d gone into labor around eleven at night, while my water broke nearly four hours later at three in the morning, but by time my mother showed up, it was almost seven. I knew it didn’t matter to my mom what time it was, and she showed up as if she’d already been awake, fully dressed and with her hair and makeup done.

I loved Ed with every inch of me, but there wasn’t anything like having my mother beside me. I knew that she had been in the same position in the past and that she knew exactly what I was going through. I told her through a smile how sweet and kind Ed was being, minus the one incident we had, and she stroked my hair and kissed the back of my hand.

“You’re lucky to have him,” she said.

My father didn’t do well with hospitals. Even though he stayed by my mother’s side throughout her labor, he had to leave the room every time a doctor or nurse came in. It ended with my mother calling him a pussy through gritted teeth, shouting through tears at him, and when she pushed, he stayed, but just as I was born, he fainted. My mother and I laughed through the stories she told, reassuring me that I was going to do great.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, finding my voice cracking with tears.

“Oh sweetheart,” she ran her hand along the side of my face, “I know you are. I was too. I know that it’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt, and I know how hard it is, but the second you see that baby, all of it is going to melt away. I promise you. You can do it.”

There was nothing like having my mother there.

Ed’s parents had come down as well, and although Ed tried to keep his mom out of the room, she wanted to see me. I had no objection to seeing her, but Ed warned me early on that his mother could be overprotective and how excited she was that she was finally going to be a grandmother. I thought it was sweet when he told me.

She poked her head in the door, both my mother and I smiling at the sight of her and Ed behind her, raising his eyebrows and mouthing that he couldn’t hold her back anymore. I invited them both in, my mother immediately pulling Imogen into a warm hug, the both of them sharing their excitement.

Ed greeted my mom with a hug and a kiss on the cheek once Imogen did the same to me.

“How are you feeling, love?” she asked, stroking my cheek as she did.

I nodded, looking over to Ed, “I’ve been better,” I admitted, “but Ed has made this so much easier.”

She looked to her son and he shrugged with a smile, “I’m so relieved to hear that,” she sighed, smiling.

We caught up momentarily, before another contraction came like a tornado. Imogen found it best to retreat back to the waiting room with her husband, being sure to kiss and hug her son before she left. I felt relieved having Ed on one side and my mother on the other while I suffered through the pain, especially hearing my mother’s words of encouragement when I thought I couldn’t do it.

At nearly nine in the morning, I was ready to push.


	3. New

No amount of books you read, or articles you scan, or even stories you hear from people who have had babies of their own can prepare you for the moment you see your own baby for the very first time. From the second the doctor told me it was time to start pushing, I couldn’t have prepared myself for the amount of love my heart could possibly contain.

Ed listened carefully to the nurse as she spoke, explaining what his role was and what would happen once I was ready to push. He seemed horrified and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, I could see it in face that the nausea and nervousness he felt stole the color from his cheeks.

He clutched my hand, kissing my face before my feet were brought up and resting on cold metal stirrups. I was scared shitless.

“Okay, I need you to take a nice big deep breath and push with all you’ve got,” the doctor said, each of his hands resting gently on each of my knees just before he sat down on the stool, conveniently placed between my legs.

Ed brought his eyes to mine, smiling as he brought my hand up and kissed my knuckles.  
He counted along with the nurse who was on my left side, both of them mimicking the breaths I was meant to be taking. If I hadn’t been having another human splitting me open, I would’ve thought how cute it was to watch Ed breathe as if he were in labor, inhaling until his cheeks puffed and exhaling over and over. But, for once, I didn’t think it was cute, I wanted to smack the look right off his face.

Between heavy breaths and hard pushes, I threw my head back against the bed for a quick break, looking over at Ed just before the doctor demanded I keep at it.

I swore I was going to die or fall asleep before the baby came, and after three hard, exhausting pushes, I lost all control. Tears fell heavily down my face as I cried, begging for some sort of pain relief, cursing Ed for not making me get an epidural.

“I can’t do it,” I cried, still clutching Ed’s hand.

Both the nurse and the doctor tried to reassure me and Ed stood silent, letting them interfere.

“Dad,” I heard the nurse speak up, catching Ed’s attention with his new title, “I want you to hold under her leg just like this,” I felt my left leg being lifted and squished up until my knee was nearly at my chest, “and mom, I need you to focus. You’re doing great and you’re almost there, just a few more pushes.”

Ed did exactly as he was told, his free right hand cold under my knee as he pulled it up. I felt him exhale as he leaned in to kiss the side of my face, whispering enough so only I could hear, “you can do this.”

It was as if someone turned off the faucet behind my eyes. I didn’t stop crying because Ed was encouraging me, I stopped because I knew there was only way to get through the pain; push. I sniffled back the tears and inhaled as deeply as I could, holding Ed’s palm for dear life.

Almost an hour had passed before the three most amazing words met my ears.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor exclaimed, and everything just stopped.

I heard a faint laugh and a sigh of relief from Ed as he grabbed my face and kissed me, but I was so overcome with joy that I wasn’t sure what had just happened.

My eyes darted from Ed to the doctor, hearing him suctioning the baby’s mouth and nose. Shortly after, the doctor stood and held up the most beautiful, red, wrinkly, screaming baby I had ever laid eyes on. His little fists were clenched as he screamed, the tiniest dimple in his chin showing dominant and quivering as the doctor presented him to us, one gloved hand cradling his head and neck and the other under his bottom.

The nurse pulled down my hospital gown, and suddenly he was right there, pressed against my bare chest, wiggling and screaming and messy against me. I cried even harder at the sight of him, my numb hands reaching up to cradle the newborn as the doctor clamped his umbilical cord, reaching over to hand Ed the pair of scissors. It was a surreal moment seeing Ed reach across with a shaking hand, carefully snipping the cord.

The nurse quickly and rigorously rubbed the baby down and popped a small hat over his head, covering the light wisps of auburn fuzz.

Without looking up to him, I reached for Ed’s arm, pulling him until our lips met. I tasted the saltwater against my mouth before I could see his tears. In our years of being together, I’d seen Ed cry a handful of times, one being at our wedding, but now, after seeing the birth of his first baby, the tears fell fast and heavy down his cheeks. He couldn’t control his chin from shaking as he leaned in and kissed my face over and over, then bending slightly to plant a soft kiss against our son’s wrinkled forehead.

“He’s beautiful,” I cried, gently caressing his perfect little nose, pulling down the blanket just a bit to show Ed that he inherited his dimple.

“Hi sweetheart,” I practically cooed when his tiny fists went up beside his head, wriggling free from the tight swaddled blanket. Ed wiped his eyes again, sniffling just before he ran his hand along the baby’s covered head, cupping it in his palm.

The baby opened his bright blue eyes, his left winking open a tad bit faster than his other, and Ed gently laughed, revealing the widest smile I’ve ever seen spread over his face.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” I asked Ed, reaching my left hand and gently rubbing his arm.

“He really is,” Ed smiled, lifting my chin to softly kiss my mouth, “you did so good, baby.”

Although I was sure I couldn’t cry anymore, tears still leaked from my eyes.

We’d gotten a good twenty minutes with the baby before the nurse whisked him away to be weighed and for his standard testing and checkup. Ed and I both watched closely as she lifted him and brought him to the other side of the room, unraveling him from his soft warm blanket. Ed stood on his tip toes to peek over her shoulder, making sure the baby was okay. I grabbed Ed’s hand when we both heard a high-pitched shrill cry come from his tiny body.

“Six pounds, nine ounces,” the nurse said, “and nineteen inches.”

Ed turned toward me with a smile, “Our little peanut.”

It felt like an eternity before we got to see him again, but it was worth it since we found out he was completely healthy. While they had him, Ed’s parents and my mine came in to give their congratulations. My heart nearly melted when his mother walked in with tears running down her face. She was so proud of her son, and now I could see that her heart was completely filled and bursting with joy.

Ed’s dad greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile before grabbing his son and ruffling his hair.

“Congratulations, son,” he said, his voice cracking.

Ed couldn’t seem to hold it together, especially when his father embraced him and patted the side of his face gently. He was equally as proud.

“We have a grandson!” Imogen exclaimed, holding both my arms before pulling me in for hug.

They wanted to stay and see the baby, but since he was still in the nursery, Ed took them by to catch a first glimpse until they brought him back. I wished I could’ve seen the look on their faces when they saw their grandson for the very first time. I imagined Imogen covering her mouth and exclaiming how much he resembled Ed.

Ed came back shortly after, explaining that his parents would wait in the waiting room until we called them back in. I was eternally grateful that they were being respectful. My own parents assured me they would be back, deciding they would go and get coffee and bagels for everyone, since it was well past breakfast time.

I’d been examined while Ed was gone, and now after all the excitement, the exhaustion was finally setting in.

“Can you ask the nurse when we get to see him again?” I asked Ed through a yawn, my eyes slits.

He sighed with a smile, pushing the hair from my face.

“Just rest now, darling, we’ll have plenty of time with him.”

Ed was right, but I wanted our baby with us. I didn’t understand why we hadn’t seen him again. It’d been nearly an hour.

“Is he okay? How did he look in the nursery? Was he crying?”

I scooted over a bit to invite Ed to sit with me, and he did, curling up gently against my right side, being careful not to move the bed around too much.

“He was sleeping,” he said, his left hand caressing the side of my face, “he’s perfect.”

We laid close enough for our noses to touch, and I reached my arm around his head to pull him closer, kissing him twice on the mouth.

“Thank you for being so good to me,”

He smiled, his eyes looking just as tired as mine felt, “I can’t believe we have a baby.”

I nodded, running my hand through his soft hair and resting it against his left ear, stroking his lobe with my thumb, “me either. I wish they would bring him back, my boobs are about to explode.”

Ed glanced down between us, trying his hardest not to laugh, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and mouth pouted to hide the chuckle.

“You’re making it really hard for me to not crack a joke right now,” he smiled, his voice cracking with sleep.

We both ended up passing out before either of us could crack any jokes. I was the first to wake up after hearing a faint knock on the door. I carefully shook Ed awake, and he groaned in his sleep, stretching out his arms as he came to, seeming to just remember that we were still in the hospital. He shot up, blinking over and over to rid the sleep from his eyes.

“How we doing?” the nurse asked, and Ed quickly rolled off the bed, his fists rubbing at his eyes before he checked his watch.

Though it felt as if we’d been asleep for hours, it’d only been about thirty minutes.

“I’m fine,” I said, slowly sitting up, wincing at the sharp pain that came when I did it too fast, “how’s the baby? Can we see him soon?”

The nurse smiled, nodding as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm, “they’re going to bring him in from the nursery as soon as I’m done here. Little guy is ready to eat.”

Ed’s eyes lit up, both of us ecstatic to finally have the baby back in the room with us. I was poked and prodded for about the fourth time, Ed carefully helping me sit up all the way once another nurse wheeled our baby in from the nursery.

“Baby Sheeran is good and hungry,” she said, smiling as she rolled him over to us.

I was nervous about breastfeeding since I’d read stories of the baby not latching, or it being painful, but I knew it was what I wanted, and that I would stick to it.

The nurse walked me through it, and I was especially grateful to Ed for being so patient and helpful during the whole process. Even though he was holding back, I could see by the look in his eyes how hard he was trying not to crack a joke or laugh when the nurse was practically feeling me up. Typical Ed.

After three or four tries on each side, the baby finally latched on. Ed’s face lit up when the nurse congratulated me, and she left us to it, reassuring me to page her if we needed anything. Once the baby was done nursing I carefully burped him, Ed letting out a laugh when he burped loud with his eyes wide open and his tongue lazily sticking out the side of his mouth. Like father, like son.

Ed couldn’t wait to hold him. He held out his hands, a smile plastered over his face in anticipation to welcome the baby in his arms for the first time. He didn’t seem nervous, and although I didn’t need to, I reassured him as he slowly took the baby, one hand under his head and neck and the other under his bottom. I realized then that Ed was a natural. He carefully lifted the baby until he was cradled warmly against his left arm. I leaned my head back against the bed, smiling as I watched him press his lips against his forehead.

“Hi buddy,” he said, cradling the small bundle in his arms, his tattoos showing vibrant against the baby’s white blanket.

I wanted to cry at the scene I’d waited nine months to see. Ed softly patted the baby’s bottom when he began to whine, his tiny fists and feet wriggling beneath the blanket.

“It’s alright little guy, daddy’s got you,” Ed cooed, rocking him gently.

I smiled at his little fists flailing around, unsure of where to go, and his tiny face wrinkle until he was wailing, his chin trembling and feet kicking against Ed’s arm. Ed suddenly seemed nervous.

“Try holding him over your shoulder, he might need to burp again,” I told him, handing over an extra blanket the nurse left with us. Ed flung it over his right shoulder, slowly bringing the writhing baby up, being careful to support his head.

“This is hard,” he said, “his head is so wobbly.”

“You’re doing great, babe,” I reassured him and he leaned back a bit to let the baby rest comfortably against his shoulder.

“Like this?” he asked me, starting to rock lightly back and forth.

I nodded, watching him carefully pat the baby’s back, seeing the heat in Ed’s face diminish when the baby stopped crying. Sure enough, he burped again, this time spitting up against Ed’s shirt. I laughed when it trickled down his back.

“That’s my boy,” he said, smiling wildly as he rubbed the baby’s back.

With another kiss to his soft head, Ed brought him back down to his left arm, wiping the spit-up from his mouth and chin.

“Here,” I said, “let me take him so you can go clean yourself up.”

I could tell Ed didn’t want to let him go, but he gave him back, kissing my mouth as he did. Before he wandered off toward the bathroom in the room, he pressed his lips to the baby’s face again, making his eyes squint when he did.

“So disgusting,” he cringed, turning his back toward the mirror to see a neat trail of white spit-up caked on his shirt, “that came out of your boobs.”

I rolled my eyes, “daddy likes to make jokes,” I told the baby, my voice switching to an octave higher, “wait til he gets to change your diaper.”

Ed leaned out from the door, his shirt off and hair fluffed and disheveled, “has he pooped yet?”

I laughed at his immaturity. Ed gloated throughout the pregnancy that he could change diapers in record time, but I knew that he hadn’t been around a newborn, and I knew that he had no idea what he was in for in terms of poop.

“Not that I know of, babe, so you’d better prepare yourself.”


	4. Home

He looked so much smaller all bundled up in his car seat. Ed made sure he was tightly secured before we even left the hospital, tugging over and over on his shoulder straps to be certain he was safe.

I sat in the back with him while Ed drove us, incredibly slowly I might add, and although I knew he was only trying to be careful, I was growing immensely annoyed at the blaring car horns when each of them sped past us. Ed brushed the majority of them off, but saved a flick of his middle finger for a special two or three.

We miraculously made it home in one piece and after spending two days in the hospital, we both couldn’t wait to be in the comfort of our own home. Ed opened my door, helping me climb out, and although I wanted to be the one to carry the baby in, he insisted, unraveling the car seat from the latched in base and taking me under my left arm to help me in the house.

“This is weird isn’t it?” I asked him once he shut the door behind us, “It’s just the three of us now.”

Ed gently placed the car seat down, crouching in front of it as he pushed the handle back, smiling at the sleeping baby, his little bottom lip poking out while he snored, “it’s gonna be even weirder at three in the morning when we don’t have a nurse to help us figure out why he’s screaming his head off,” he whispered, being cautious to not wake him.

Although I knew Ed was probably right, I wasn’t too nervous about us having full responsibility over the new addition. We would do just fine.

It’d been two days since I was able to shower, and since I had Ed home with me, I opted to take one, especially while the baby slept. He was more than happy to have some one-on-one time with the baby, and I made sure to tell him there would be plenty more where that came from.

Just before shutting the bathroom door, I poked my head out, seeing Ed knelt in front of the car seat, smiling and gently rocking it forward and back, beginning to hum.

I got lost in the warm stream of water, letting it wash away the sterile smell of the hospital and sleep from my eyes. It suddenly hit me how tired I was, having not slept more than two hours in its entirety during the whole duration of the hospital stay. Halfway through, I heard the baby’s familiar high-pitched shrill but quickly brushed it off, wanting to trust Ed and not make him feel like he couldn’t do it.

”Babe?”

And there it was, or rather, there Ed was, rapping at the bathroom door with a hint of nervousness laced in his tone, and I pictured him there behind it with the baby wailing and wiggling in his arms.

”I really hate to bother you, but I think he’s hungry.”

I quickly rinsed and shut the faucet, my heart breaking at the way he sounded so distressed and helpless, while the baby screeched in raspy cries, not knowing any other way to say that he needed us.

”I’ll be right out babe, why don’t you try his pacifier?”

”I did,” he yelled over the baby’s crying, “he kept spitting it out.”

A smile spread over my face as I quickly patted down and threw on a fresh pair of yoga pants, opting to just wrap a towel around my hair and my upper half, since the baby was going to eat anyway.

Ed’s forehead was coated with sweat when I opened the door, bobbing the baby up and down.

”Sorry, love,” he said, shaking his head with a look I can only describe as remorseful.

”Don’t be sorry,” I told him, “just bring him to our room and I’ll try and feed him.”

I gave Ed a smile, rubbing his left shoulder gently before landing a quick kiss against his cheek, the skin hot against my lips.

As I expected, he was right when he thought the baby was hungry, and he surrounded me with pillows and wedged one under my arm to support the weight while I fed him. Ed sat cross-legged in front of me on the bed, stroking the fuzz atop his son’s head while he ate.

”Do you think we’ll be okay?” he asked me, his eyes fixed on the baby, his hand trailing from his head to his hand where he wrapped his tiny fist tightly around his dad’s index finger.

I nodded, bringing my free right hand to caress Ed’s cheek, “we’re gonna be fine.”

Ed burped him while I threw a loose top on, seeing him behind me in the mirror as I brushed my hair out. He held the baby carefully upright against his shoulder, just like he did the first time in the hospital, gently patting his back until a tiny burp came out. He smiled and turned his head just enough to plant a kiss beside his little ear.

During the pregnancy, I’d had multiple dreams about the baby being here. Some of them were gentle and reassuring, while others woke me up wondering if we would be good parents. Ed confessed after I’d told him of one of my own dreams that he had one of his own of him being left alone with the baby and not being able to stop him from crying, no matter what he did. I of course reassured him, and even after only having a three day old newborn, he was already showing me what it meant to be a great father.

I finished up my hair and trailed back over to Ed as he brought the baby back down from his shoulder, cradling him neatly in the wedge of his left arm.

”Look babe,” he said, a hint of humor in his tone. I saw his finger land directly above the dimple in the baby’s chin, pulling down his bottom lip gently, “It looks like he’s talking.”

“Hey mommy,” he laughed, continuing in his high-pitched baby-like tone, “how’s it feel to be milked?”

I rolled my eyes, seeing him hardly able to contain himself with laughter as his eyebrows angled and eyes squinted in amusement.

”What am I in for with the two of you?” I trailed, just then realizing the gravity of having Ed in charge of a smaller version of himself. I was in trouble.

“We won’t torture you too much,” he gave the baby’s nose a quick peck, whispering as if I couldn’t hear, “mommy doesn’t know what she’s in for at all little man.”

Not two solid seconds after the sentence left his mouth, he whipped his head back and away from the baby in surprise.

“Oh my God…” he grimaced, his face screwing up.

A flush of worry went through me until I got close enough to smell the freshly soiled diaper. Before Ed could even protest, I threw my hand over my nose, waving my hand toward him, “that’s a daddy one, and payback for your cute little joke.”

I’d already changed nearly ninety percent of the diapers, since Ed was either out of the room or busy doing something for me when he was due for a changing. And luckily for me, I hadn’t witnessed an extreme blowout as they’re so commonly called in the new-mom world, since the nurses were the ones to catch his very first number two.

I followed Ed to the nursery, getting prepared to help him with the mess I knew it was going to be.

Anyone witnessing Ed change the baby would think he was working with toxic chemicals by the way he was hiding his nose in his shirt, and the way he carefully peeled off the diaper tabs like a crab using two pincers.

”Oh no babe, it’s gone everywhere,” he said, his eyes squinted and his hands scrambling to keep the baby’s extremities from getting soiled.

I covered my mouth and laughed, scratching the back of Ed’s hair when he hollered with disgust.

“I thought you were a pro?” I teased, gently stroking the baby’s head to calm his crying. He wasn’t the best with getting his diaper changed.

Ed plucked a baby wipe from its container to the left of him, his right hand holding the baby’s kicking feet up and away.

”Ethan Ryan Sheeran,” Ed gasped, seeing that the diaper didn’t exactly live up to its expectations, leaving Ethan’s back and legs soiled. Typical newborn episode.

It was suddenly all hands on deck, and Ed’s didn’t have any idea what to tackle first; the screaming baby, the heavily soiled diaper, or the neat stream of pee that was trailing straight up toward Ed, landing square to the center of his chest, making him jump back with his hands out.

I fell into hysterics, quickly shielding the stream with a wipe, seeing Ed’s strawberry hair flop when he ducked away, his face painted with disgust and shock.

”I am not cut out for this, babe,” he said, suddenly finding humor in the situation. We both knew that if we didn’t find the will to laugh, the two of us would’ve been brought to tears.

We tag-teamed the issue, Ed carrying baby Ethan to the bathroom while I ran a quick bath, sponge bathing him clean while he shivered and wailed, his tiny chin shaking until his face burned red. It took a good hour to get Ethan to settle down afterward, and Ed felt horrible guilt, even though none of it was his fault. He couldn’t stand seeing his baby cry, and I was sure the exhaustion wasn’t helping him any either.

The first night home proved to be a rough one. By eight that night we were both so exhausted we could hardly keep our eyes open, and before the two of us collapsed, I prepared plenty of bottles, showing Ed how to warm them with the bottle warmer when it was his turn to get up with Ethan during the night. He was excited about being able to feed him, having only done it once in the hospital.

At two in the morning, Ethan was good and ready to eat. I crawled out of bed, padding over to him fussing in the bassinet beside our bed, surprised that Ed hadn’t stirred. I scooped Ethan up and got to work. First came a diaper change, then it was time to feed him, and instead of wandering back to our room, I stayed in the nursery, choosing to feed him in the rocking chair rather than wake Ed.

It was nice having my own moment to bond with the baby, rocking him gently as I nursed him, trailing my index finger down his tiny nose while ate. He reminded me so much of Ed with his hair the lightest shade of orange, and his blue eyes alert and looking around. I couldn’t wait for Ed’s mom to bring over his baby pictures so we could compare them side-by-side.

It took nearly an hour to get Ethan back down after he was fed, changed and burped. I swaddled him tightly, planted a soft kiss against his forehead and rocked him until he fell asleep.

Carefully, I tiptoed back to our room and placed Ethan down in his bassinet, kissing his head again before crawling back into bed beside Ed, almost immediately dozing off.

A little more than a half hour later, I awoke to Ethan grunting on the verge of tears. Ed was still sound asleep beside me, his face squished against the pillow and mouth hanging open. I hadn’t seen him sleep so soundly since the last day of his tour a few weeks before.

I didn’t have the heart to wake him, although I was exhausted, I was already up. I slowly sat, looking over at Ethan to see his little hands pawing at his face, having sprung free from the blanket. Ed stirred once a full blown cry came from Ethan, and like it was on cue, Ed shot up, looking around the room as if he’d forgotten where or who he was. He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

”I got him,” he yawned, voice heavy with sleep.

”It’s okay Ed, I got it.”

I’d already stood up, halfway toward Ethan when Ed threw the blankets off him, “no, it’s alright. I heard you get up with him before.”

It became clear that he wasn’t letting me take no for answer, and he stood with a quick stretch, padding over toward the bassinet when I sat back down, happily pulling the balnkets over me.

I plucked the fabric of his boxers from where they were riding up his legs as he bent to pick up Ethan, cuddling him up close to his face.

”Daddy’s here,” he hummed.

Between a yawn and a stretch I told Ed that he’d already eaten but he could try again, finding myself falling asleep shortly after he trailed out of the room, his shadow disappearing around the door frame as he went.

An hour later I woke up to the sound of complete silence, worry filling my chest when I found Ed’s side of the bed cold and empty and Ethan not in his bassinet. A new mother always thinks the worst.

The sun was beginning to rise, filling our room and the hall with a dim orange glow as I walked to Ethan’s room, the same light accentuating the gray walls and yellow accents in the nursery. My eyes trailed to the rocking chair where Ed was sound asleep with Ethan flat against his bare chest, his tattooed arms covering him like a blanket. I covered my mouth at the overly sweet scene of Ed leaning back flat in the chair so the baby was lying comfortably, his tiny hands in fists on either side of his head. Ed cradled him with one hand across his back and the other over his bottom, Ethan’s head tucked neatly under his jaw, while a half empty bottle of milk was wedged between Ed’s thighs.

I decided to let them sleep, carefully pulling the bottle from between his legs before I tiptoed out of the room toward the kitchen. I smiled at the thought of him taking such good care of Ethan as I washed the bottle.

It wasn’t long before I heard Ethan start to wake up, and I went toward the nursery just in time to see Ed jolt awake, clutching his son to his chest. I walked in with a smile, taking Ethan carefully from him, revealing a reddened patch of skin against the center of his bare chest where the baby had been lying.

”I think you’re trying to kill me,” I told Ed, and he stretched his arms up by his head, his eyes squinting as he did.

”Why’s that?”

”The way you two were sleeping. It was straight out of a Hallmark commercial.”

Ed rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wake up as he smiled, peeling himself out of the rocking chair.

I cradled Ethan comfortably against my left side, Ed leaning over him to plant a soft kiss against my mouth, “I love you,”

”I love you too,” I said, returning the kiss with my hand flat against his jaw. I knew then that we weren’t just okay, we were perfect.


End file.
